The Plague of the Niscorites
by Verba-hominum
Summary: The Doctor and Clara investigate something infecting the Niscorites, but things become serious for the Doctor when Clara begins to show signs of the plague. With time limited and the Tardis gone, the Doctor and Clara must figure out what is causing this plague and cure it before the Doctor's Impossible Girl slips from him again.
1. Bahl

**Chapter One: Bahl**

"Oritorious!" The Doctor shouted as he flung open the doors to the Tardis with Clara in tow. "What a marvelous planet!"  
"That has to be one of my favorites," Clara added, smacking her lips. "Why is it the alien planet has the best chocolate?"  
"Do you not listen to a word I say?"  
"'Fraid not, I was too busy eating chocolate," Clara grinned, sucking the remaining chocolate from her fingers. "Tell me again."  
The Doctor huffed, a child-like pout drawn on his lips. "Of all the life forms I have encountered, you humans have the worst attention spans. Apart from the Calmanine, they can barely carry on breathing let alone a conversation. Lovely species though, they have this acute sense of smell that could sniff out different cheeses from miles away—"  
"Doctor," Clara interrupted. The Doctor stopped, looking at Clara expectedly. "Chocolate?"  
"Ah," He smiled. "Right. The Oritorians were the original creators of chocolate!" He explained, hopping up to the console and circling it, pulling various levers as he danced about. "They began making chocolate millions of years back when the earth was nothing but a big glow-y ball of molten rock and elements floating about in space. Chocolate is their main resource, their food source, and they take it wherever they go in the Universe. Five and a half a million years go by, the Earth begins crawling with new life forms, and one of the Oritorian ships crash landed in South America full of cocoa beans. Entirely my fault really, lost control of the Tardis. I did apologize." He wrinkled his brow, placing his hands on the console and leaning on it. "The Natives were pretty angry though. Anyway, as it turns out the soil on earth is similar to the soil on Oritorious, so the Oritorians decided to _use_ earth as a sort of growing planet. They planted the cocoa in case anything happened to the supply on Oritorious."  
"So if you're the reason the ship crashed here, then essentially you're the reason Earth has chocolate?" Clara smirked as she leaned against the console, pressing forward as the Doctor was. The Doctor straightened with a prideful grin, adjusting his bow tie as he often did when he was showing off.  
"Yes, I am the reason the Earth has chocolate."  
"Don't look so proud of yourself," Clara laughed, her lips quirked into the most playful of smirks. The Doctor grinned back before stepping around the console, standing close to Clara with his hands together. "So, Clara Oswald," his grin widened. "Where to next?"  
Clara cupped her chin in her hand, tapping one slender finger against her cheek. "Take me somewhere new—"  
"I always take you somewhere new."  
"Somewhere exciting—"  
"Everywhere we go is exciting!"  
"Take me to a party."  
The Doctor stopped, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "A party?" His lips curled into a childish grin. "Clara Oswald, I will take you to the party capital of the Nu galaxy!"

"Bahl has the most elaborate celebrations in the galaxy," The Doctor explained as he looped around the controls, pressing buttons and inputting their destination. "Parades, food, dancing, lights, all of the goodies that you could possibly think of! Every day is a celebration on Bahl."  
"Why is that?" Clara inquired, following the Doctor around the console.  
"The Niscorites believe—"  
"Niscorites? Not Bahlians or something?"  
The Doctor stopped, spinning to look at Clara in confusion. "Bahlians? No, that just sounds silly. The Niscorites are the residents of Bahl. They have an express belief that every day is a gift that should be celebrated in the most extravagant way possible. Ironically," he continued, resuming his previous dance around the Tardis. "they are also the cleanest planet in the entire Nu galaxy! The Niscorites believe longevity can be achieved through cleanliness. Can't really say they're wrong, the oldest living Niscorite is well over six thousand years old. Think about all the parties he's been to!" He clapped his hands together, his smile unwavering, as though it had been glued to his face.

As the Doctor pulled the last lever, the Tardis lurched. She gurgled unhappily before stalling, sitting right where she was. The Doctor's lips twisted into a taught frown.  
"Come on old girl, what's the matter?"  
The Doctor stroked the center console lovingly and for a moment Clara thought perhaps he wanted a moment alone.  
"What happened? Why aren't we moving?"  
"She's unhappy." The Doctor's eyes were locked on his Tardis, brow drawn worriedly before he jogged down below the console, looking for the problem. Clara followed, wiping a finger over the metallic surface of the railing. Her finger came up with a fair clumping of dust.  
"Maybe she just needs a bath." She hinted, showing the Doctor the dust on her finger. "She's dusty. When was the last time you cleaned in here?"  
The Doctor's frown deepened and he swiped his finger over the Tardis as well, rubbing the dust between his fingers.  
"Perhaps it is time for a cleaning." He mused, placing one hand over his nose and mouth so he could clear the dust without breathing it in. "We can take her to one of the cleaning stations on Bahl, I'm sure they would be happy to assist us."  
The Doctor tapped a few of the wires to make sure they were stable before he darted back to the console, pulling the lever again and grinning when the Tardis roared back to life.  
"Ah-ha! There's my beautiful girl! Just needed a little attention!" He held onto the control panel to steady himself as the Tardis shook.  
"A little attention?" Clara shouted over the sound of the Tardis, one eyebrow quirked. "Beautiful girl?"  
"Oi!" The Doctor looked insulted, even as he swayed back and forth with the movement of the Tardis. "She is beautiful! And you wonder why she doesn't like you!"  
The Doctor grinned as Clara leaned her head back and laughed.

When the Tardis finally came to a halt, the Doctor had already begun rummaging through a large chest below the main controls. He tossed out suit jackets, mismatched socks, hats of all sorts (save one fez, which he placed on his head before continuing his digging,) striped pants, cotton blouses, and several different gloves before he finally found what he was looking for.  
"Ha!" He exclaimed, taking off his bow tie and replacing it with an even more ridiculous looking bow tie; this one was covered in what looked to be small balloons and party poppers. He turned to Clara with such prideful enthusiasm that she had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing.  
"Well," He said, adjusting his bow tie before smoothing back his hair. "How do I look?"  
Clara laughed. "Ridiculous. Where did you get that bow tie? I haven't seen that one before."  
The Doctor smile broadened simply because he had made her laugh.  
"A peddler sold it to me on Fedorian Rex; he said I looked rather dashing."  
"It looks absurd!"  
"I like absurd, absurd is good, absurd is…well," He stepped up to her, flashing Clara his brightest smile. "Absurd."  
Clara rolled her eyes, reaching up to take the fez off his head and place it on her own. "Let's go party with the Niscorites, shall we?"  
"Let's." The Doctor tapped her nose playfully before opening the Tardis doors.

When the Doctor and Clara stepped out of the Tardis, there was no celebration. There were no parades, no dancing, and no happy citizens laughing in the streets. In fact, there were no signs of Niscorites anywhere.  
"Doctor…?" Clara said slowly, glancing up and down the bare street. "If this is a party it sure is a very dull one."  
"Yes…" The Doctor's brow was furrowed with concern as he removed his sonic from his jacket pocket. "It is rather…dull."  
The Doctor pointed his sonic in random directions, his expression becoming more confused as he glanced at it. "There are Niscorites around here. The question is," He began fidgeting with his sonic. "Where?"

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**Author's Notes: **

There will be several chapters to this story (and by several I mean many.) I'm sorry it's moving slowly at first, but I promise it's about to get _very_ interesting. This is the first fanfic I have written in a few years, so I urge you to please give constructive criticism, your opinion, or a review!


	2. Sulfur

**Chapter Two: Sulfur**

"Doctor, where is everyone?" Clara asked, looking up at the Doctor with one eyebrow quirked. The Doctor looked down at her, opening his mouth to speak before he closed it again.  
"I haven't the slightest idea. Normally there are parties all up and down these streets, Niscorites laughing and music playing. Either they moved the party and we didn't get the memo, or—"the Doctor looked around at each building, looking for any sign of life, "something has them so scared they're in hiding.  
Just as the Doctor spoke, a figure emerged from one of the tall, crystalline buildings. Slim with metallic skin, the figure looked at the Doctor and Clara with large, blank eyes.  
The Doctor grinned, long limbs at his side. "Hello there, we're here for the party but we seem to be a bit lost, do you think you could tell us what's going on about here?"  
The figure continued to stare, not a word escaping their lips.  
"Doctor," Clara said quietly, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "What's wrong with its eyes?"  
The figure, the Niscorite, stared at Clara with clouded silver eyes. The cold gaze sent shivers up her spine, and she could tell something was wrong.  
"I don't know," The Doctor said, carefully stepping toward the Niscorite with his hands held up to prove he was not a threat. "The streets are quiet tonight, why?"  
Again, there was no response.  
"Can you speak? Can you hear me?"  
The Doctor carefully raised his sonic, stepping so he was very close to the Niscorite. "You poor thing, what has happened to you?" He murmured, moving the sonic over the unwavering body before examining the result. "What indeed has happened to you?"  
"Doctor!"  
The urgency in Clara's voice made the Doctor turn. The street had filled with Niscorites, their silver eyes clouded as they moved about the street. They were emotionless, moving with the dragging slowness of animated corpses. They didn't seem to notice the Doctor or Clara, but the Doctor wasn't taking any chances.  
"Clara, move away from them. Don't touch them; I need to figure out what's wrong with them first."  
"They look like zombies." Clara breathed, watching the Niscorites moving slowly through the street.  
"They're not zombies, but you're right. This is not normal behavior for the Niscorites. Look at their eyes, they're clouded. But they seem harmless; they don't seem to even recognize that we're here."  
"So what's wrong with them?"  
The Doctor's jaw tightened, his teeth gritting together. "I don't know. But how about we find out?" The Doctor's lips turned into a Cheshire-cat grin, the same one he gave when he was excited.  
Suddenly, Clara was very afraid.

The Doctor moved through the street, waving his sonic at every other Niscorite that passed them by. Clara followed closely, her eyes scanning the windows of the huge glass buildings. The city was pristine, not a speck of dirt or dust anywhere. The Doctor was not lying when he said the Niscorites were obsessed with cleanliness.  
Clara had not been paying attention when the Doctor stopped, and she nearly collided with his back.  
"Clara, do you smell that?" He asked, taking a deep breath. Clara did the same, inhaling deeply before she wrinkled her nose.  
"What is that? It smells rotten."  
The Doctor inhaled again, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "Sulfur. But Bahl doesn't have sulfur."  
"I thought all planets had sulfur?" Clara said, looking confused.  
"No. Some planets, like Bahl, were formed by isophoric pressure. Isophoric pressure happens when heavy gasses press together so tightly that it forms what is known as a diamond planet. It's not real diamond; on the contrary diamond planets can't even produce things like diamonds. They have a completely different make up; they can't produce a wide variety of your periodic elements, like sulfur."  
"Then why does it smell like sulfur?" Clara inquired, looking up at the Doctor. He looked down at her, adjusting his bow tie.  
"Exactly. How does a planet that doesn't produce sulfur smell like sulfur: simply. Something else brings the sulfur here."  
"And whatever brought the sulfur here is probably what has made the Niscorites act so strangely."  
The Doctor smiled, gently tapping Clara's forehead with the sonic. "Now you're getting it."  
"But how does the sulfur affect the Niscorites?"  
The Doctor blinked at her, fidgeting with the sonic between his fingers. "…I have no idea. But! I know how we can find out!" He exclaimed, a gleeful smile on his lips once more.

"I have something that can help us back in the Tardis. It was given to me by an old man with one eye; I never thought it would come in handy to be honest, but it made such a lovely decoration that I just had to keep it! Well, actually I just sort of forgot about it, but it still made a lovely decorative piece!"  
The Doctor squeezed Clara's hand as they ran back to the Tardis, his smile growing wider and wider. He genuinely enjoyed the excitement of something new and perhaps even the prospect of something dangerous. Clara was a little more apprehensive and as they ran, she began to feel concerned for the dead-eyed Niscorites. Occasionally a pair of those great silvery eyes would glance at them, looking intensely at them as though they were crying out for help.  
"Oh no no no!" The Doctor let go of Clara's hand, balling his hands into fists and placing them on the top of his head. Where the Tardis had been moments before was nothing but empty space.  
"That's why she didn't want to land, whatever is here is messing with the temporal chronometer, she's stuck and I don't know where."  
"So what does that mean, Doctor? Are we stuck here?"  
The Doctor groaned in frustration, waving his sonic around the area where the Tardis had been. "She won't come back until it's fixed. Which means for now, we're on our own." He fidgeted, leaning back on his heels before rolling to his toes, thinking while he continued with his back and forth motion.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw a dark figure. The figure moved quicker than the others, and as soon as it had appeared it vanished down a narrow alley.  
The Doctor turned toward the alley, placing his sonic back in his jacket pocket.  
"Hello, is someone there?"  
There was no sound, but the hooded figure peeked around the corner of the building. The Doctor turned to Clara and placed a finger over his lips, ushering for her to hush before turning back toward the building.  
"Hello there, I'm the Doctor and this is Clara. Can you come out and tell us your name?"  
The figure shook their head and huddled closely to the building, but did not turn away. The Doctor took a few slow steps toward them, offering his hand.  
"Come on out, I'm not going to hurt you. Can you tell me what's wrong with them? Do you know?"  
The little figure hesitated before shifting out from behind the building. The figure was smaller than most of the others, and her large silver eyes were bright, unclouded. She looked to be a very young Niscorite.  
"Can you help them?" She whispered, her eyes frightened. The Doctor smiled softly at the little girl and went down on one knee so he was eye level with her.  
"We're going to do everything we can to help them. Can you tell me your name?"  
"Artima." She answered, her eyes flicking to Clara before she looked back at the Doctor.  
"Artima," The Doctor grinned, his ancient eyes warm. "What a pretty name. Artima, are there others like you? Others without the…" He made awkward gestures to his face, trying to find the word. "Eyes?"  
She nodded, shifting shyly. "They're at the church."  
The Doctor's eyes widened and he took a breath, leaning his head back and standing. "Oh, I should have known." He whispered.  
"The church?" Clara looked up at the Doctor for some explanation.  
"The Niscorites don't just believe being clean makes you live longer; cleanliness is their sort of religion, their way of life. So when they smell the sulfur, when they encounter something that is dirtying their air, they go to the one place they think will save them."  
"Church," Clara breathed. "Looks like they really aren't so different."  
"No one is really that different from one another. We all fear." The Doctor murmured before he knelt down to Artima's level again.  
"Artima, do you think you could bring us to the church?"


	3. Ithanor

**Author's Note: **I keep trying to fix the spacing but somehow it always ends up getting weird. I'm trying to figure out how to double space the document without it screwing up the rest of the spacing. Until I figure it out, I'm very sorry! I do hope you enjoy the chapter though! Please feel free to leave me a comment, review, or critique!

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**Chapter Three: Ithanor**

The church of the Niscorites was unlike anything Clara had ever seen before. The entire building was carved out of what looked to be crystal, and it glittered under the two suns that burned in the sky. There was one tower that stood taller than the rest, and as it climbed higher in the sky the light split into a thousand colors. Clara was mystified by the technicolor display; how the light cascaded into the street and bathed it in reds and blues of all kinds, how the crystal towers standing beside it reflected the color throughout the city and electrified the sky.

"Tepitin crystals," the Doctor said softly when he noticed Clara's intense stare. "The whole planet is made of Tepitin. This city was carved into the planet, and I mean it was literally carved into the planet. Diamond planets are some of the most difficult to live on because well, think about how it would be living on a diamond." He smiled, reaching for Clara's hand as Artima lead them toward the enormous church. "So millions of millions of years ago, the Niscorites had an idea. Instead of living _on _Bahl, they decided to live _in_ it. For millions of years they have been building down into the planet, carving their homes, their hospitals, their playgrounds, all into the Tepitin."  
"It's like…the entire planet is one big sculpture." Clara breathed. The Doctor smiled, squeezing her hand.  
"That's exactly what it's like. The Niscorites are absolutely brilliant artists in that sense, they know the perfect angles to carve out the planet."  
"So that means that tower there, that was the original surface of Bahl?" Clara gestured up to the tallest of the crystal towers. The Doctor nodded, swinging their hands.  
"That's right."  
Clara coughed, bringing one hand to cover her mouth before she grinned.  
"This planet is absolutely incredible!" Clara's smile only made the Doctor's wider and even small Artima smiled proudly.

"My granddad carved the church," Artima spoke with a soft voice, stopping just in front of the church. She stared up at it, her silver eyes searching it with an indescribable pride. "He designed it, too. My mother told me many stories about him. My granddad…I met him only once, when he was quite old and I was very young. I don't remember very much about him, but I know he was a great man."  
"It must have taken him ages." Clara said, gently placing a kind hand on Artima's shoulder. The girl smiled, her grin swelling with pride in her family.  
"Three thousand years, my mother says. She said he built it to be a beacon of light for our people. " Her smile fell, and her eyes flicked around them nervously. The Niscorites had begun to turn their clouded eyes toward them, and it was making Artima nervous.  
"Perhaps," The Doctor said softly, taking Artima's hand to keep her calm. "We should get inside."

They had not taken two steps into the building before Clara and the Doctor were pressed against the wall, the sharp blade of Tepitin weapons pointed at their necks. The Doctor, bewildered at the sudden hostility of a usually benign race, opened and closed his mouth in confusion.  
"Friends! Friends! We're friends!" He exclaimed, holding his hands up. The armed Niscorites were shouting at the Doctor and Clara so loudly that she could not understand them, and she looked to the Doctor for help.  
"Doctor!" Clara had her back to the wall beside him, trying to edge away from the blade at her neck. "Doctor, tell them we're friendly! We're friends, friends!"  
"What do you think I'm doing, asking them to tea?!" He looked at Clara with bewildered eyes.  
"What are your names?!" One of the armed Niscorites shouted his blade dangerously close to Clara's neck.  
"I'm the Doctor! The Doctor and Clara, Clara and the Doctor, we're friends!"  
The Niscorites looked at the Doctor and Clara with their steely eyes, their blades still at their necks.  
"Stop!" Artima cried out. "Stop stop, they are friends! The Doctor and Clara are friends; I brought them here to help! Put your weapons down!"  
The Niscorites looked back at young Artima, then at the Doctor and Clara before they lowered their weapon.  
"Yes ma'am." They saluted Artima before moving back to their places.

Clara coughed several times, rubbing at her neck just to get the feeling of the blade from her skin. When she looked up, she couldn't believe the commotion in the church. Hospital cots were laid out all over the floor, each one with Niscorites that looked as though they were near death. There were others in white, fluttering about between patients with water and medicine. The Doctor walked over to the sick slowly, taking out his sonic.  
"Artima, what is wrong with them?" He asked, his brow furrowed as he knelt close to one of the Niscorites. Their breathing was heavily labored and they were sweating profusely, no doubt of a high fever.  
"They're sick. There is a plague on Bahl. These are the infected." She murmured, placing one small hand on the chest of a Niscorite struggling to breathe. The Niscorite began to calm when she placed her hand on them, and Artima suddenly looked very sad. "These are the fated to be like those you see on the outside. With their blank eyes and soulless bodies…"  
Artima trailed off, becoming very quiet. The Doctor carefully scanned the Niscorite closest to him, one hand placed on their shoulder for comfort.  
"This is horrible…" Clara whispered, looking at the mass amount of Niscorites that were sick. "Look at them all. How did this happen?"  
"It is our God's doing, Ithanor. A few weeks ago, people began falling ill, horribly, horribly ill. Fevers that would not break, aches we could not soothe, pain of the most incredible kind. Three days they suffer, enduring the most excruciating torture. And then…" Artima swallowed, rubbing the hand of the sick Niscorite. "Then their souls leave them. They are not dead, but they suffer a fate worse than death. They roam the streets with their soulless bodies, never to feel joy or laughter or love again."  
Artima wiped tears from her eyes, standing up quickly. "It is a fate of the most unimaginable kind."  
The Doctor looked up at Artima, his brow wrinkled as he tried to piece things together in his head. He was struggling, and Clara could see that in the way he licked his lips nervously and straightened his bow tie.  
"Artima, you said this started a few weeks ago when Ithanor became angry? But why is Ithanor angry, what was different?" He said, his eyes locking onto hers.  
Artima opened her mouth then closed it, struggling to answer the Doctor. She was interrupted when Clara coughed, the sound deep in her chest and struggled. Artima's eyes grew wide and she looked at Clara intensely. Clara struggled to catch her breath, coughing again and again until finally she sucked in a breath.  
"That's how it starts." Artima whispered breathlessly "That's how they all begin."  
"How they all begin? What do you mean how they all begin, Artima?" The Doctor asked, his eyes flicking to Clara and back to Artima. Artima looked up at the Doctor with sad, broken silver eyes.  
"I'm sorry." She whispered sadly.  
Clara looked concerned, her eyes darting between Artima and the Doctor.  
"What do you mean how they all begin? How what begins? What are you talking about?"  
No one answered Clara. The Doctor's expression did not change, but his eyes slowly began to darken.  
"No." The Doctor spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes boring into Artima. Artima's gaze was sad, and she lowered her head.  
"Doctor? Doctor please tell me what's going on, what does she mean?"  
"I'm sorry." Artima repeated, looking up at Clara. "I'm so sorry."


	4. An Angry God

**Author's Note:**

Unfortunately I still can't seem to figure out the spacing issue, I'm very sorry everyone! On another note, thank you for the reviews, comments, favorites, and follows! I am really glad that you all seem to be enjoying the story, and I hope you stay with me and continue! Please leave me a comment, review, critique, or what have you!

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**Chapter Four: An Angry God**

"Doctor, what is she talking about?" Clara insisted. Her eyes began to grow more and more panicked as she saw the Doctor's expression. His eyes were so dark, so angry. It was as though there was a storm raging within them. His jaw locked before his entire expression softened and he looked down at Clara. He was trying to hide his concern and Clara knew it. He might wear his mask well, but his eyes always gave him away.

"Clara," He spoke softly, curling his long fingers around her arm and gently pulling her up to stand with him. "How long have you had that cough?"  
"Not long, just before we got here." She looked back and forth from the Doctor to Artima before her eyes widened and she shook her head. "But my throat has been feeling scratchy since we were on the Tardis, it's no big deal. Just an itch in my throat!"  
The Doctor placed his hands on either side of her face, looking at her with such an intense stare that Clara almost feared him. Almost.  
"Tell me that again." He murmured. Suddenly Clara realized what he was doing; he was trying to make sure she was telling the absolute truth. "Tell me this isn't something that just happened."  
"It's not something that just happened. My throat has been scratchy since we were on the Tardis." Clara's voice was even and as calm as she could keep it. The Doctor's eyes narrowed, searching her for any signs of lying before he dropped his hands.

"There, you see?" He smiled, clapping his hands together. "All set. Now, Artima, you were telling me about Ithanor. Why would Ithanor send a plague, what changed? What is different from two weeks ago?"  
Artima's eyes were still on Clara, her eyes boring into her as though she were looking into her soul.  
"There was this horrible smell." She said finally, looking up at the Doctor. "A horrible smell which burned us when we breathed."  
"A horrible smell." The Doctor repeated, squinting his eyes at Artima. "What horrible smell?"  
"Doctor, the sulfur. The smell in the street, the smell of sulfur." Clara coughed, clearing her throat.  
"Oh…" The Doctor breathed, seeming to stare off into space. "No…it can't…oh but yes…Oh that's _brilliant_! It's terrible but it's _brilliant_!" The Doctor clapped his hands, the most wicked, childish grin spreading across his face. "That is terrific, that is clever, very very clever!"  
"Doctor, what's clever?" Clara asked, watching as the Doctor ran across the room to grab one of the glasses of water that had been set down by the nurses. He dipped his finger into the glass, stuck his finger in his mouth, and made a face.  
"This water is disgusting!" He exclaimed with absolute delight.  
Artima, who had remained quiet, looked insulted. "I beg your pardon; there is nothing wrong with our water!"  
The Doctor stepped up to her with his Cheshire grin, looking like a kid in a candy shop.  
"But it is! Don't you get it? Don't you understand?" The Doctor looked over at Clara. "Clara would you like to explain or shall I?"  
Clara smiled at the Doctor, placing the heel of her hand to her forehead. "You look far too excited for me to take this moment away from you, you go ahead."  
Clara sat on the floor, taking a deep breath before she coughed once more.  
"You see," The Doctor started. "Whatever this plague is, wherever in the Universe it's coming from, it's smart. Impossibly smart, incredibly smart, and very very clever. Your plague, what you call a plague, it knows your planet. It has studied you, watched what you do and how you work. It knows your people, your religion, your rules, your gods. It has gotten to you where you are the weakest—"  
"Weakest? Doctor, we are Niscorites, there is nothing weak about us!" Artima interrupted, her childish face twisted in anger.  
"Of course there is, there always is!" He said, looking confused by Artima's anger. "Every species has a weakness. And yours is your religion."  
"You speak blasphemy." Artima snapped.  
The Doctor sighed, looking frustrated. "Don't you understand? That is your weakness, your belief. Whatever is causing this sickness to happen has been watching you. Whatever is causing this has taken note of your religion, how clean you are, and it wants to stay under the radar. So what better way to stay under the radar than make everyone think they're dealing with the wrath of their god?"  
Artima's anger slowly ebbed away as she began to understand, and her large eyes widened.  
"But what has the water got to do with it?" She asked, gesturing to the glass in the Doctor's hand.  
"Doctor…" Clara's voice was too soft for him to hear.  
"This," The Doctor said, holding the glass up to his eyes, looking through it. "This is where the secret has been hiding."  
"Doctor…"  
"So the smell, it's been coming from the water?" Artima looked up at the Doctor, a smile growing on her lips.  
The Doctor grinned. "This is exactly where it's coming from. The question is: what is putting sulfur in the water supply?"  
"Doctor!"

The Doctor turned quickly to see Clara struggling to stand, her eyes heavily lidded and her face pale. The Doctor's smile fell and he grasped Clara's shoulders, his eyes searching her. The glass of water in his hand shattered on the floor, splintering against the Tepitin surface.  
"Clara, Clara what's wrong, tell me what's wrong?"  
"I lied." Clara breathed, her fingers curling into the Doctor's jacket. "I lied, Doctor. I lied."  
The Doctor froze, his eyes wide and his breathing seemed to have stopped. Artima watched them, swallowing.  
"I told you," She whispered, her silver eyes falling sad on Clara's pale face. "It's how it begins."  
But the Doctor was ignoring Artima at the moment; his attention was entirely focused on Clara. He grabbed his sonic, quickly pointing it at her as he tried to determine what to do. His mind was racing too quickly, and his anger was rising. Clara was sick, his Clara, and it was his fault. He should have never brought her here.  
"Everything is going to be alright, Clara." His voice was strained as he tried to sound calm, but Clara knew better. She coughed, looking up at the Doctor with a smile.  
"Silly space man, we both know you can't promise that."  
"I can. I can save you, Clara. I'm going to save you."  
Clara coughed harshly, leaning her forehead against his shoulder.  
"Then save me."

The Doctor clutched her closely for another moment or so before he looked up, his eyes almost black with fury. He placed Clara on one of the cots, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before he balled his hands into fists. He was angry. There was an absolute rage coiling in his stomach and pulling at his two hearts.  
"Doctor? Doctor, how are you going to save her? We don't even know what's causing this yet!" Artima said, looking down at the Doctor. The Doctor glared up at her, tucking his sonic into his jacket pocket.  
"We're going to find out." He hissed coldly, straightening his bow tie before he stormed outside into the street.  
"Do you hear me?!" He shouted into the sky, his anger wild. "Wherever you are, whoever is listening out there, you just made the biggest mistake of your life! Because there is one thing you do not ever want to do, one small thing that you should never ever do if you hope to have any chance of survival! And you've just gone and done it!" The Doctor grinned darkly, dark enough to make Artima shake with fear.  
"You've made me angry."


	5. The Clever Man

**Author's Note:**

Oh my goodness you guys thank you so much for all the lovely reviews and messages, I am so incredibly happy that you're enjoying the story thus far! I hope you stay with me, because the big reveal is coming! I know you'll be surprised, and I hope you're going to love it!

On another note, I would like to make writing Doctor Who fanfiction a regular thing for me this summer, so I have decided that every two weeks, I will be working on a story. (Meaning, you will get a complete story from start to end within the span of two weeks.) So every two weeks, there will be another story in progress. I hope you'll follow my literary journey with me, and happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Clever Man**

"Doctor!" Artima cried out, running after the Doctor. "Doctor, wait for me!"

The Doctor was quite a ways ahead of her, maneuvering around the soulless Niscorites that crowded the streets. His expression was determined, his dark eyes black with the fury that was raging inside of him. He scanned the face of each Niscorite he passed, his brow furrowing at each result.

"This doesn't make any sense; they have absolutely no brain functions." He said, banging his sonic against his hand and scanning again to see if the result would be different. "Not even a little blip. The brain gives off electrical signals, like the static shocks you get if you rub your feet against the carpet too much."

"Carpet? What is a carpet?" Artima looked at the Doctor with a perplexed expression. "Doctor, you talk nonsense."

"I am nonsense." He said with a sad grin before he looked intently into the eyes of the Niscorite he was examining, waving his sonic at their face again. "But there's not a single spark of function in their brains, it's like they were…shut off. They shouldn't even be alive, let alone moving. And then there's the thing about the eyes, why are their eyes like that?" The Doctor was speaking to himself, a thousand arguments running through his head at once. "What sort of thing is in your head…?"

The Doctor continued on, stopping every once in a while to take a deep breath. The smell of sulfur was getting stronger. The Doctor stopped for a moment and licked the side of a building, smacking his lips together with his brow wrinkled. Artima looked on with a horrified disgust.

"Doctor!" She gasped, large eyes wide. "Licking buildings?"

The Doctor looked at her with an innocent expression, not completely understanding why she was upset.

"Taste it, it tastes of sulfur. Sulfur and a little bit of dust. The entire city reeks of sulfur, the buildings taste of sulfur…but why? There's something I'm missing, something I've overlooked. But what is it?" He paced, frustrated as he hit his forehead with the heel if his hand. Artima looked up at the sky at the dark rain clouds that loomed above and pulled on the Doctor's jacket.

"Doctor, we should get inside. It's going to rain." She said, still looking up at the sky.

"A little rain isn't going to hurt me." He spoke quickly, still pacing. "How, how does this connect? Come on, what am I missing? I'm missing something big, something right in front of me!"

"Doctor, it's going to rain!" Artima insisted, tugging once more at the back of his jacket. Again, the Doctor paid no attention.

"It's right in front of me, what am I missing?" He was growing more and more frustrated and his pacing was growing quicker. "Come on, what am I missing?!"

"Doctor!" Artima yelled. "Doctor the rain!"

The Doctor suddenly turned to Artima, his dark eyes black with anger and frustration.

"Artima, the rain isn't important! Right now, Clara is dying. My…" He swallowed, stopping himself. "My…my _friend _is dying and I can't let that happen. Not again. If you want to go back then go back, but I can't just leave her to die." The Doctor swallowed again, his expression changing from anger to a frightened concern. "I can't leave her to die just because of a little—"

The Doctor stopped, his eyes widening as though he were looking into the headlights of a car.

"….Rain. Rain!" The Doctor grabbed Artima and picked her up, spinning her in a circle with excitement. "Oh Artima, you brilliant, clever girl! Rain! It's the rain, the sulfur isn't just in any water, it's in the rain! Oh that's _beautiful! _That is absolutely _brilliant! _Oh these guys have done their homework haven't they? Oh but they're so _thick_ because an atmospheric converter of that magnitude would need a huge space to operate and I know _just _where they would put it!" The Doctor grinned darkly.

"Where?" Artima asked, looking briefly up at the sky again.

The Doctor's smile grew wider as he grasped Artima's hand.

"The top of your grandfather's church."

"Doctor, what sort of thing is it that we're looking for exactly?" Artima asked as the Doctor pulled her up the stairs with him. The church tower was the tallest building in the city, and the only way to reach it was by the winding staircase that was carved into the wall.

"An atmospheric converter, it looks like a round metal thing with a big huge red button in the middle." He smiled, tilting his head a little. "Oh I do love me a big red button."

"A round metal thing? Doctor, could you be a little more specific? How am I going to know it if I see it?"

"Oh trust me; you'll know it when you see it. Lots of blink-y knobs and dials, flashing lights, it's a big alien thingy!"

Artima stopped on the steps to catch her breath, looking up at the Doctor as she shook her head.

"Doctor, you are an impossible man." She huffed, taking a deep breath.

"I'm not a man." He said with a grin, waiting for Artima to catch her breath.

"You're a woman?" She looked confused, her eyes quickly flicking over the Doctor's figure.

"No!" The Doctor looked a little disgusted but mostly just insulted. "You think I look like a woman? Is it the hair? It's the hair, isn't it?" He ran his fingers through his hair, his lips drawn into a tight frown.

"No, I'm not saying that, you just said you weren't a man!" Artima defended.

"Because I'm not a man, I'm a Timelord! We came first but people still confuse us, honestly—"

"Timelord?" Artima interrupted, her eyes widening. "But that's impossible. The Timelords died out ages ago."

The Doctor looked down at Artima with a frown before he continued up the stairs, moving with haste. "I know." He murmured quietly.

The Doctor did not speak again until he and Artima reached the top of the stairs. Just past the huge Tepitin archway, glittering within the shining cavern, was a large metal device. Just as the Doctor had said, the metallic surface was adorned with several knobs and lights, with what looked to be a conductor buzzing with light in the center. But what the Doctor did not expect was the emptiness of the room. Other than the converter, there was nothing but dust in the room.

The Doctor scanned the room with his sonic, his jaw tightening. He had thought he had the culprit within his grasp, he was absolutely sure they would be here to man the device. But the room was completely empty, and it looked as though it had been empty for ages with the thick layer of dust that had collected on every surface. The Doctor covered his mouth with his hand so he wouldn't breathe in the dust and scanned the atmospheric converter.

"Where are they?" He murmured to himself in anger, looking around for any signs of life. "They were supposed to be here."

"Who was supposed to be here, Doctor?" Artima asked, opening some of the heavy doors to see if she could find anyone. "Who's causing this?"

"I don't know." He admitted, wiping a hand down his ancient, worn face. He had never looked so old and tired. His Clara was waiting for him in such immense pain downstairs, and here he had reached a dead end. "I don't know, I don't know."

Artima glanced at the Doctor with sad eyes. He looked like such an old man then, such a broken creature. She saw him for who he truly was in that moment, just a poor, lonely old Timelord with the weight of a thousand worlds on his shoulders. She watched as he rubbed some of the dust between his fingers, his eyes blankly examining it as he leaned against the converter.

Suddenly, the Doctor stood up straight, his eyes widening.

"Of course…" he breathed, his lips quirking into a wide grin. "Ha! Of course! Oh, I am getting old, I am getting _thick! _Of course it's you, it was always you, it could only be you!"

"Doctor?"

The Doctor didn't answer Artima and moved to the window, shouting into the wind.

"I know who you are!" He shouted, eager and delighted. "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"


	6. A Thousand Worlds

**Author's Note: **

We are almost finished with this story! I believe there will be two more chapters and the epilogue. (The epilogue will most likely be updated within the same time frame as the last chapter.) This has been one of my favorite chapters just because there's so much going on, and I really hope you love it! Please feel free to leave me a comment, critique, or review, they are very much welcome! I am really surprised and ecstatic about the amount of response this story has gotten, and I want to thank you for reading from the bottom of my heart! It's one of my favorite things to do, and to have this much support from such a fantastic community means a lot to me!

Happy reading!

**Quick Edit: **I was so excited about updating that I completely forgot to mention something! Be sure to read the epilogue of the story when it comes, because I will be including a sneak peek of my next story, which is all drawn out and ready to go!

* * *

**Chapter Six: A Thousand Worlds**

Before Artima could ask the Doctor what he was talking about, he was already racing down the stairs, talking to himself.

"You clever, clever things, you had me running in circles just like everyone else. But you forgot one thing, I am extremely clever! Ha!" The Doctor shouted, taking the steps two at a time. With Artima far behind him, the Doctor ran through the rows and rows of sick Niscorites. He didn't pause to see Clara; he couldn't bear the sight of her in pain. Besides, his mind was completely focused on one thing and one thing only.

The Doctor burst through the doors of the church, a wildly terrible grin on his lips. He went up to the first Niscorite he saw, looking straight into their dead eyes.

"I know you're in there, and I know you can hear me! You have taken over this body and I want to know why, so you had better start talking." The Doctor straightened so he was taller than the figure. "I would start talking if I were you."

"Doctor, they can't hear you!" Artima insisted, grasping his arm.

"Oh they can hear me alright; they've been able to hear me this entire time. ISN'T THAT RIGHT?!" He shouted into the Niscorite's face, his own features twisted with the most unkind anger. "You've been locking yourselves up in their heads, controlling their bodies to make everyone think this is some kind of plague. You're clever, I'll give you that, but all the cleverness in the universe can't save you from me." He hissed, seething with rage. "I am the Doctor!" The Doctor spread his arms out wide, his sinister smile darkening. "And you better start talking."

The Niscorite stared at him with their blank eyes, and to Artima they were completely void of life.

"You're mad!" She yelled, standing a good distance from the Doctor. "Doctor, you're mad! Don't you see, there's nothing living inside them anymore, their souls are gone! They can't hear you!"

"You're right Artima, their souls are gone and I am sorry, I am so very sorry I could not save them but there is something in their heads. There is something very much alive in there, and it's been harboring in their minds. They've been gorging themselves their life force, their very souls." He narrowed his eyes, his face mere inches from the Niscorite's. "You've managed to control their bodies, you've put them through so much pain and you, you are going to tell me why. TELL ME WHY!"

Artima looked on as the Niscorite opened their mouth and closed it again, as though they were trying to get the feel of talking. They were trying to find their voice. With absolute horror in her eyes, Artima watched they began to speak.

"We…are many." The voice was raspy and monotonous, void of any emotion at all. "We…were weak…but we are….strong…again."

"Of course you are, with all the people you have killed. Tell me, how many bodies have you taken, how many lives have you ruined? How many have you killed for the sake of your _feasting?_" The Doctor hissed.

"Oh my god…" Artima whispered, her large eyes wide with absolute terror. Her small body quaked with fear, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god, they're alive. My people are alive!"

"No," The Doctor said, his eyes never leaving the Niscorite's. "I'm so sorry, but they're dead. But the things inside them are very much alive."

"Then…then what are they?!" Artima shifted away from them, her horrified eyes flicking to each Niscorite in the street.

"Philomites. They're a microscopic race that lives in the dust of the planets they destroy. We were so busy looking at the water that we were missing the one thing that was right in front of us the entire time. Dust. They've been living in the dust. You breathe them in and they enter your blood, reworking the system to fit their needs while sucking away your life force. That's why you get sick, that's why there's so much pain. They eat you alive from within. I have seen the Philomites take down a thousand worlds, I have seen them suck the lives of every living creature on the planet then destroy it without a second glance. They are a species of murderers." His anger grew more intense, his eyes black with rage.

"You…are not so different…from us…Doctor." The Philomites rasped within the Niscorite's body.

"I am nothing like you."

The Niscorite's lips twitched into a sinister smirk, their dead eyes locked on the Doctor.

"No…you're right. Philomites…do not kill their own."

The Doctor gritted his teeth, a wash of guilt appearing in his eyes before his jaw locked. He would not let them get into his head like that.

"What I don't understand is why make them think this is the doing of their god? The Philomites have never played it safe before, why would you now?"

The Niscorite opened its mouth again to speak. "We…were weak. We came…on an asteroid. Our empire…had fallen…and we…entered the atmosphere. Burnt up. So many…lost." The voice wheezed, as though they were catching their breath after a long run.

"So you came to Bahl to rebuild your empire."

"We…could not let them see. We…could not risk it. We were…so weak. But now…we are strong. We…are many. We…will destroy this planet." The voice grew harsher before it let out a sickening sound. They were laughing.

"Not while I'm here." The Doctor spoke in a low voice. "Your first mistake was coming to this planet, but your second was taking Clara from me. I will give you one chance and only one to leave this planet while you can. Leave this planet, its people, and Clara."

The Niscorite laughed again, the revolting sound making Artima's stomach lurch.

"You cannot…kill us. We are…many. We are…strong."

The Doctor's dark smile was back on his lips. "You are many, but I'm a Timelord. You will leave this planet or I will stop you."

"We…will rebuild…our empire. And no one…can stop us. Not even you….Doctor."

The Doctor straightened his back, looking down at them with his grin. "Just watch me."


	7. The Doctor's Promise

**Author's Notes: **

Alright ladies and gentlemen, here it is! The second-to-last chapter! I take back what I said in the last chapter, this is my new favorite. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please feel free to leave me a comment or review, it always makes my day to hear that you're enjoying the story!

**Edit: **I don't know if you've heard, but Matt Smith is officially leaving Doctor Who after the Christmas Special. My whole heart is sobbing, but I want you to know I will continue writing stories with Eleven and Clara as well as Twelve and Clara when the time comes. (IF I like him. That is a big if.)

* * *

**Chapter Seven: The Doctor's Promise**

"Close the door!" The Doctor yelled as he and Artima raced back into the church. "Bar it with anything you can find, anything at all! Don't let them in whatever you do!" The Doctor quickly locked the door with his sonic before he rushed to grab things to bar the door.

Artima immediately gathered chairs and empty cots, piling them up at the door. The Philomites screamed within their stolen bodies, pounding on the door to be let in. As they screamed Artima began to cry. Their voices were stolen from her people. Her friends, her family, her community; they screamed within their bodies stolen for them. They were dead, and it broke her heart. She stood back from the door, her small jaw clenched with anger.

"They stole those voices," She hissed. "They stole their voices and their bodies. To listen to them scream is…it's unbearable."

Artima wiped her cheek with one silvery hand. The Doctor glanced over at her, watching her cry for a moment before he wrapped his long arms around her.

"Don't let them die in vain, Artima. Your people are strong, and you must know that. Look around you; look at the people in here. They are alive. They are alive and they need you to help them keep them alive." The Doctor pulled back and smiled at her. He knelt so he was on eye level. "Now listen to me. I need you to do something incredibly important and I need you to be brave, Artima. I need you to go upstairs to the atmospheric converter and find the temporal switch. It should be the lever next to the blink-y blue buttons. NOT the blink-y green ones, that lever might accidentally cause the whole thing to go ka-boom." The Doctor held Artima's shoulders. "The Philomites will try to stop you. They will scream, they will fight, and if they get the chance, they will kill you. Do not give them that chance. Right now they're very afraid of you."

"Why would they be afraid of me? I'm a coward." Artima frowned.

"Because," The Doctor grinned and gently tapped her nose with the tip of his finger. "You're brave. All you have to do is remember that you are braver than you think. You left the safety of your church to find help, didn't you? You were brave enough to trust me, Artima, and the Philomites fear that bravery."

Artima smiled weakly and nodded, taking in a deep breath. "Okay. I trust you, Doctor."

The Doctor stood up straight and grinned. "Good girl! Once you pull that lever the Philomites will panic, so you need to get out of there as soon as possible."

"Why, what does that lever do?"

"It'll let my Tardis land." The Doctor said quickly, gesturing up to the ceiling. "Right now she's stuck somewhere up there trying to land, but that lever is messing with her temporal chronometer. Once you pull that lever she'll be able to land. The weather might go a little crazy, but we can worry about that later!"

The Doctor started off in one direction before quickly changing his mind and started in another.

"Doctor, where are you going? What's the plan after that?" Artima asked, watching as he moved away from her. The Doctor stopped and grinned at her, his smile almost genuine.

"I don't have one!"

"Then what's the point of this?" She looked bewildered.

"I'm being clever! Just trust me!" He grinned cheekily as he ran off. "I'm the Doctor!"

* * *

When Artima left to do what he had asked, the Doctor returned to the sick ward. He ran his fingers through his hair quickly before he spotted Clara laying in one of the cots. Her skin was pale and damp with sweat. The Doctor swallowed, taking a deep breath before he moved to her bedside. He brought a hand up to her face and, hesitating first, he brushed a bit of hair from her face. Clara opened her eyes, her breathing shallow and rapid.

"Oi, chin boy," She rasped with a smile. The Doctor smiled back at her, smoothing her hair back. "You're back."

"I always come back." He searched her face, looking at each sign of sickness. The redness in her eyes was alarming against such a pale face, and it caused an ache in his hearts. He had endangered her life again. "Most of the time." He murmured under his breath.

Clara laughed weakly before she coughed, groaning irritably. "This cough is going to be the death of me."

"No," The Doctor said with a frown. "Don't say that." He knew she had only been being sarcastic, but it hurt to think of what might actually happen to her. What he knew would happen if he couldn't stop the Philomites.

He was suddenly alarmed when Clara placed a surprisingly strong smack on his arm.

"Ow!" He yelped, rubbing his arm as he looked down at her with an exasperated expression. "You hit me!"

"You were being melodramatic!" Clara argued with a smile. "You're so dramatic with your sad eyes. If I'm going to die here, I don't want the last thing I see to be your sad eyes."

The Doctor sighed and rolled his eyes at her. He made a face at her and listened to her laugh. It was choked, but it was still her laugh.

"That's better." Clara smiled weakly.

The Doctor smiled back at her and rubbed the back of her hand. "Clara Oswald, you're impossible."

Clara closed her eyes as her smile widened. "Now you're getting it."

The Doctor smiled and kissed her forehead, rubbing the kiss away with his thumb before he sat up once more. Clara opened her eyes and watched him for a moment. He was deep in thought, his mind working like the most complex of clocks.

"Clara," He murmured quietly, fidgeting with his fingers. "I made a promise to you, a promise to save you. In order for me to keep that promise, I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?"

The Doctor's eyes bore into her and Clara became confused. He had worked it out in his head, he knew what he needed to do but he wasn't telling her. He couldn't tell her.

"Do you trust me?" He repeated.

"I followed a space man into his snog box, if I didn't trust you what kind of person would I be?"

The Doctor smiled, laughing nervously. Clara narrowed her eyes at him; it was not like the Doctor to be nervous.

"Good, because what I'm about to do is very dangerous and risky and I'm not sure if it will work."

"If it saves these people, then it's worth a shot." Clara wheezed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"Are you sure?"

"Would I say it if I wasn't?"

"But you're _absolutely _certain?"

"Doctor," Clara was beginning to grow irritated. "I said I was sure, now what—"

Clara found herself unable to speak. The Doctor had done what needed to be done. The Doctor placed his hands on either side of her face. He brought himself very close.  
And kissed her.


	8. The Young Queen

**Author's Note: **

Here it is everyone, the final installment of The Plague of the Niscorites! Thank you for sticking with me guys, but remember the epilogue will be out soon! With the epilogue will be a "preview" of my next story. I will be taking a few days break to get started on the new story, but I hope you enjoy that one just as much as this one if not more! Please do leave any comments, reviews, critiques, or anything else for me! I love reading your opinions and reactions!

Happy reading!

* * *

**Chapter Eight: The Young Queen**

Clara didn't understand what was happening. One moment the Doctor was fidgeting in his seat, the next he had his lips crushed to hers in earnest. There was a wash of pain in her body and it flooded through her veins until, just as suddenly as it had come, it was gone. She was left with her heart racing in her chest and words garbled up in her head. She could feel the Doctor's fingertips against her cheek and along her jawline, and suddenly it was too much to handle. Clara felt overwhelmed, she couldn't think, so she did the first thing that came to her.

She slapped him.

The Doctor reeled back, one hand flying to his face. "Ow!" He said, looking at Clara with disbelief. "That hurt, what did you do that for?"

Clara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sitting up in her cot. "You kissed me!"

"Yes, I kissed you! You humans have a tendency to point out the obvious." A smile began to break out over his face as he rubbed his jaw. His face, sometimes so old and worn, looked young and vibrant again. He was happy.

"What are you smiling at?" Clara asked, pursing her lips to stop her own smile. He looked so childish when he smiled like that.

"You're still wearing the fez."

Clara had completely forgotten about the fez. She laughed and took the silly looking hat off her head.

"I had forgotten about it." She placed the fez on his head, pulling so it was snug. "It suits you much better."

"It suits you just fine, it's a fez. Fezzes are cool."

Clara listened to him laugh with a smile. She yawned, stretching her arms over her head. Her limbs were heavy, as though she had been stiff for days. The Doctor was still watching her with a gentle grin.

"What? What are you looking at now?" She inquired. "Why are you smiling like that?"

The Doctor pressed his hands to the sides of her face and kissed her forehead. He sighed in relief as he held her to his chest, fingers buried in her hair.

"Because you're blushing," The Doctor answered softly. Clara could feel both hearts beating in his chest. It was strange, but it was comforting.

"Well I hardly think that's my fault." Clara defended.

The Doctor pulled back and took her face into his hands. He was smiling so warmly and for a moment Clara thought he might cry.

"No, you don't understand. You're blushing, there's color in your face. You're not pale anymore." The Doctor pressed another chaste kiss to her forehead. "Do you feel sick? Are you still in pain?"

Clara pulled away from the Doctor to test it, wiggling in her cot before she looked at the Doctor with a pleasantly surprised expression. "You kissed me and made me better, how?" She asked with her eyes narrowed.

"The Philomites feed off the life of whoever they're taking over, that's what all that pain is. They take that life, all your feelings and emotions and they gorge themselves like little microscopic overfed pigs. But a kiss, a kiss is a rush of pure epinephrine, or adrenaline. Adrenaline is like pure life force, and when it floods the body in large quantities it—"

"Drowns them?" Clara finished breathlessly.

The Doctor smiled fondly at Clara, his Clara. He tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. "Exactly. Now all we have to do is simultaneously make every infected person have an adrenaline rush while somehow managing to get the rest of the Philomites to leave this planet." He rubbed his fingers together and pursed his lips, a tell-tale sign that he had no plan.

"Oh, well," Clara shrugged and took a deep breath. "Sounds easy enough."

"It will be. Once I figure out how to do it." The Doctor took Clara's hand and stood, bringing her to stand up with him. He quickly grasped her shoulder and looked her over, flipping his sonic in his hand before he waved it over her. "And you're sure you're not feeling faint or dizzy or anything?" He asked carefully. Clara rolled her eyes and took his sonic from him before tucking it back in his jacket pocket.

"I'm fine, Doctor. There are more important things than me right now. Where's Artima?"

"Right now she's getting my Tardis back." The Doctor moved towards the foyer. He took out his sonic and let it sound. As the sound reverberated from the walls, his expression slowly fell.

"That's funny." He murmured, though it didn't sound funny at all. "I'm trying to home in on her so she can land but she's still not landing."

"What does that mean?"

The Doctor held his sonic in both hands, swaying back and forth a little. "It means Artima is in trouble."

* * *

"Artima!" The Doctor shouted. He took the stairs two at a time, rushing to find Artima. Clara followed behind him as quickly as she could.

"Artima!" He called again, reaching the top of the steps. He immediately covered his nose and mouth so he would not breathe in the dust. "Clara, don't breathe in the dust. Cover your nose, hold your breath, do anything you can to not breathe it in."

Just inside the ornate archway, covered in a fine layer of dust as though she had been there for years, lay a very still Artima. Clara immediately tried to rush to her, but the Doctor grasped her arm to stop her.

"Don't," He said quietly, taking a few steps so he was right under the arch. "She's still alive. Look, her chest is still moving. Just barely. Artima," He spoke gently. "Artima, can you hear me? Can you move?"

Artima twitched and shifted. She stood with clumsy limbs, her bright eyes duller than they had been.

The Doctor's jaw clenched as he watched her stare blankly at him with those wide, clouded eyes.

"You didn't have to kill her!" He bellowed in anger. "She was only a little girl!"

When Artima opened her mouth to speak, it was not her voice that resonated. "She is not…dead…yet. She is…necessary for…our…empire. She is…the Queen."

"She's not a Queen; she's just a little girl!" Clara defended. The Doctor looked back at Clara before turning to face Artima again.

"Yes she is." He straightened his bow tie. "She has always been the Queen, Clara. Don't you remember what she said? Her grandfather built this church. This church was built six thousand years ago by the King of Bahl, making her Queen Artima the…what is it, the third?

"But she's so young; she's just a little girl!"

"She looks young, yes, but so do I." The Doctor gestured to his face. "We're both ancient by human standards."

"She…is Queen…and therefore…she must die." The Philomites rasped.

"Oh is that your conclusion?" The Doctor raised one eyebrow as he strolled up to Artima, looking her in the eyes where she knew the Philomites could see him. "Sounds like a logical one, you kill the Queen and the people are helpless. But there's one thing that you have forgotten." The Doctor spun around on his heels and pointed to Clara.

"You've forgotten about her. Look at her, tell me what you see."

Artima did not move, but she remained silent for a short period. "She is…human. How is this…relevant…Doctor?"

The Doctor laughed darkly as he turned back to them. "You're not really looking, because if you were really looking you would notice that she is alive. She is alive. Do you want to know how that is possible?"

Artima opened her mouth to speak but the Doctor interjected.

"It's because I saved her. I saved her from you and I can save Artima from you. So if I were you, I would get out of that body before I get really mad. And you wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

The Doctor looked back at Clara with his lips turned into a Cheshire grin. Clara rolled her eyes at him and folded her arms at his reference.

The sound of the Philomites laughing was unbearable. They smirked in Artima's body, leaving her face contorted into a sinister grin.

"You…are foolish…Doctor." The Philomites wheezed. "Believing you…could save her. We…are many. We…are stronger…in her."

"You're foolish for underestimating her. Artima is stronger than you think she is."

Again, the Philomites laughed. "She…is weak. She is…a coward. You should have…heard her…scream. So…afraid. So…pathetic."

The Doctor's jaw locked and he bent so he was eye to eye with Artima. He could still see her in there somewhere, frightened and alone in her own head.

"Artima, do you remember what I told you?" He murmured quietly. The smirk on Artima's lips fell. "I know you can hear me in there, Artima. I know you're listening. Do you remember what I told you?"

The Philomites in her head began to grow angry. "Stop." They ordered. The Doctor did not listen to them.

"Do you remember? You are brave, Artima. You are one of the bravest people I have ever known, and I have known a lot of people." The Doctor smiled softly. "Your love for your people brought you here, not me. You found me because you needed my help. You defied your fear and came up here to save your people. Well your people need you right now, Artima, this isn't over just yet. I need you to fight this. And I know you can do it, Artima."

"Stop!" The voice cracked, her eyes starting to grow wide. "Stop it!"

"Fight them, Artima! It's your head, not theirs! I know you can do it, you clever girl!"

The Philomites protested urgently, their protests turning to screams until finally Artima collapsed. The Doctor caught her before she hit the floor and brushed some of her silver hair from her face.

"Artima, can you hear me?" He murmured, leaning his head a little so he could look at her entire face. After a moment Artima gasped and her eyes flew open. They were her eyes, bright and silvery as they should be. The Doctor beamed at her and quickly pulled her to her feet.

"Doctor!" Artima breathed, smiling up at him. "How did you do it?"

"I didn't do anything, Artima. You fought the Philomites back into your brain. They're still there, but we can take care of that."

"No, I mean Clara. She's better, how did you do it?"

The Doctor turned on his heels to Clara and with the biggest, happiest smile he could possibly produce.

"I snogged her!" The Doctor's voice was so boisterous, so proud, that Clara and Artima both began laughing. The Doctor blinked at them in confusion. "Oi, what's so funny?"

Clara placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder and rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you when you're older."

The Doctor pouted like a child, his shoulders falling. "I'm over a thousand years old, what do you mean when I'm older?"

"Doctor," Artima called his name to get his attention. She had her hand on a small lever. "What about your Tardis?"

"NO not that one!" The Doctor said quickly, going up to her and fidgeting with his fingers. He pointed to each of the controls as he worked it out in his head before he looked down at her. "My mistake, that one is fine. Just don't touch any of the other buttons or things might get a little wibbly, then a little wobbly, and it all ends with a big BOOM!" The Doctor splayed his hands out from his head to mime an explosion. Artima grinned at him before she yanked the lever down.

The room shook a little, and at first Clara feared they had pulled the wrong lever. But then she could hear the tell-tale sound of the Tardis. When the floor stopped moving, the Doctor whipped out his sonic and let it buzz.

"Oh you sexy thing! She's landed herself right in the foyer." The Doctor immediately set off down the stairs, following the sound of the sonic. Clara and Artima followed close behind.

* * *

The Tardis, just as the Doctor had said, was waiting for them in the middle of the foyer. The Doctor ran up to her and kissed the side of it.

"Oh you _beauty!_" He exclaimed loudly, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

"Did you really just _kiss _the Tardis?" Clara laughed as she followed him. Artima was right behind, but she took no more than two steps into the Tardis before her eyes grew wide. She backed out of the Tardis again, walked around the outside, then popped her head inside the doors again.

"Doctor…" She said, looking over the console. The Doctor smiled proudly, waiting for his most favorite line.

"It's so much smaller on the outside." Artima finished. The Doctor's smile fell and he pouted.

"Hey, you're doing it all wrong! All of you, you're doing it all wrong." He huffed. The Doctor began rummaging for something in the same chest he had pulled the fez and bow tie from. He took the fez off his head and placed it back in the chest before pulling out what looked like a large syringe full of a strange yellow liquid.

"Here we go; this is what I'm looking for!" The Doctor waved the syringe. "Adrenaline!"

Clara made a face, wrinkling her nose. "You keep adrenaline in a syringe?"

"You never know when you're going to need an adrenaline rush." He said pointedly. He grabbed one other item from the chest before he closed it.

"What are you going to do with a syringe of adrenaline? You can't just go around giving it to everyone infected. And what about the others, the bodies that have already been stolen?"

"That's what this is for." The Doctor grinned and held up a small metal device. "It's a monoatmos fibulator converter!"

"That sounds made up." Clara said with her arms folded. The Doctor looked at her and tossed the object in the air before catching it again.

"It is made up, I was being clever." The Doctor strolled past Artima and Clara with the device in his hand, continuing to speak as they made their way back up the stairs. "The monoatmos fibulator converter is a tricky little thing, it can magnetize the amount of anything you put into it and make it bigger, a lot bigger!"

"So we're going to put the adrenaline in the thingy and then what?"

"Hey, no, it's not a thingy! Thingies are much less interesting. Well, unless they're blink-y thingies or thingies that float, those are pretty terrific!" The Doctor stopped for a moment and held the device in front of Clara and Artima. "We're going to attach it to the atmospheric converter and turn their machine against them! We're going to make it rain adrenaline!"

Clara wrinkled her nose, but she followed the Doctor up the stairs anyway. "So the adrenaline is rained into the streets, but what happens to the Niscorites?"

Again, the Doctor stopped and turned on his heel. "The adrenaline will soak into their bodies and drown out the Philomites. The sick ones will get better, but there's nothing I can do about the rest, they're already gone."

"Doctor, we can't just let them die!" Artima interjected. "They're my people, there has to be a way to make them better!"

"I'm sorry Artima, there's nothing we can do. It would take a miracle to bring them back." The Doctor looked at her with an apologetic frown. "Now I am sorry, but right now we have to think about everyone we could save. We can save the rest, Artima. They don't have to suffer. Let's focus on that."

As the Doctor and Clara ran up the stairs, Artima lagged behind a little. There had to be a way to save her people. There just had to be.

* * *

When they reached the top of the stairs, the Doctor and Clara immediately started to work. Hundreds of lights were flashing on the atmospheric converter, and outside thunder boomed. The Doctor began typing furiously on a little keypad, his eyes flickering to and fro on the screen.

"Clara, I need you to attach the monoatmos fibulator converter to the big pointy top there."

"Doctor, stop with the long word and call it what it is!" Clara yelled over the thunder as she attached the device.

"_Alright_ it's a thingy!" The Doctor huffed. His fingers were clicking on the keys at an unimaginable pace, and Artima watched them with a thoughtful expression. She was deep in thought, mulling over a few possibilities.

"Great, excellent!" The Doctor exclaimed with a wide smile. He pressed the enter key and grabbed the syringe. "Artima, I need you to—"

"Is there a way they can take mine?" Artima looked up at the Doctor suddenly. "Doctor, is there a way your device can give my life to those who lost theirs?"

The Doctor and Clara looked at Artima with disbelief. The Doctor opened and closed his mouth before he swallowed.

"…no." He said finally. "Artima, I won't allow you to."

"You're a terrible liar, Doctor." Artima smiled and grabbed the syringe. "Tell me the truth, is there a way I can give my life to them."

The Doctor pulled at his hair before he ran his hands down his face. He was struggling to lie to her again.

"Yes but there's no way you can survive it Artima. Think about your people, they need—"

"I will decide what my people need, Doctor." Artima interrupted. "And my people need to live. I cannot allow families to be ripped apart like that. I will not allow so many of their lives to be lost, Doctor. Please," She took a deep breath. "Tell me how."

"Artima, you don't have to—"

"NOW, Doctor!" Artima stood as tall as she could. "I order you to tell me how."

The Doctor tightened and relaxed his jaw, wiping his hands down his face. He was conflicted; he didn't know what to do. On the one hand, he could save an entire third of a species. On another, he could lose his friend. The Doctor looked at Artima with ancient, sad eyes.

"We'd have to hook you up to the converter. As soon as we press the button your life would leave you and you would die."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take for the sake of my people." She smiled sadly at the Doctor. "Don't look so sad, Doctor. This is what I want. Please help me save my people."

The Doctor turned his head from her before he took the syringe and hooked it up to the device. He stilled his hands when he was left with two wires. He looked up at Artima, but did not look into her eyes.

"It's going to hurt." He murmured, still trying to dissuade her.

"How do I hook it up?" She asked firmly, sitting down next to the machine. The Doctor looked at her sadly before he handed her the wires.

"Hold onto these with all your might and don't let go."

"Hey," Artima said, grabbing the Doctor's jacket so he wouldn't walk away so quickly. "Doctor, please listen to me. You told me I was braver than I thought I was, and you're right. I was a coward before I met you, but I'm strong now. I'm strong enough to do what's right. Don't you dare blame yourself for what I choose to do, Doctor. As their queen, it is my job to do what is right for my people." She smiled softly at him. "I am brave, Doctor."

The Doctor pursed his lips before he brought his hand to the back of her head and kissed her forehead. "You are very brave, Artima."

Artima grinned at him before she looked up at Clara.

"Clara, get him out of here. I can't let him try and stop me. And please," Artima took a deep breath. "Take care of him."

Clara placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder and nodded at Artima. The Doctor looked completely torn. His ancient features were weathered and worn, as though he had suddenly relived a thousand bad memories.

"Now go!" Artima cried before she pressed the large red button in the middle. The thunder roared furiously, and Artima screamed in pain. The Doctor moved to save her, but Clara pulled on his hand for him to follow. He looked back at her before looking back at Artima.

"I'm sorry!" He cried out. "I'm so sorry!"

* * *

The rains fell. For a while, the air was filled with the screams of the Philomites before finally, there was a hush. When the rain stopped, the Doctor did not rejoice. Those who had been saved celebrated with their families, laughter and joy filled the air, but the Doctor did not celebrate. He went back into his Tardis and leaned against the console, staring blankly into the center. Clara closed the door to the Tardis and came up beside him to lean on the console as well.

"She was just a little girl." The Doctor murmured angrily. "And I killed her." He was angry with himself. Clara sighed, looking up at him.

"You didn't kill her. Doctor, she became what she always wanted to be. She became the brave Queen she wanted to be. And she's not dead, not really. Her body is dead, but she passed on her life to thousands of people. She's alive, Doctor. She's alive in everyone that she saved."

The Doctor sighed before he looked over at Clara with a sad smile. "Clara Oswald, what would I do without you?"

Clara grinned and shrugged. "Get into trouble." She tapped his nose before she folded her arms across her chest. "So, chin boy in his snog box once again. Where are we going this time?"

"It's not a snog box." The Doctor said, making a face at her.

"Oh are you sure? I'm sorry; I could have sworn you snogged me back there." Clara's grin was cheeky.

"Well you…" The Doctor pointed at her before he made another face. "You snogged me first!"

"Did not!"

"Did too, it was just another you." He stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed. The Doctor laughed as well, watching her. He loved to make her laugh.

"Excuses! Excuses!" Clara moved a hand over his shoulder and smirked. The Doctor took her hand and kissed the back of it, grateful to have her around.

"Thank you, Clara Oswald." He said suddenly. "For everything."

"There you go being melodramatic again." Clara flicked his nose before she leaned on the console.

"So," She smiled. "Where to next?"

**End**


	9. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

Thank you for reading everyone, and I hope you join me for my next story! It has been lovely writing this story, and lovely to have so much feedback! I hope you follow my next adventure, because I have a lot planned!

* * *

**Epilogue:**

_Bahl, 2996 years after the Plague_

The Niscorites are famous for their celebrations; the lights, the music, the laughter, the dancing. Throughout the Nu galaxy, millions upon millions of life forms would make the journey to Bahl to witness one of their incredible celebrations.

It had been nearly three thousand years since the celebrations suddenly stopped and Bahl went dark. It had been nearly three thousand years since the poison rain and the wrath of Ithanor. Some still remember the screams of their parents, their brothers and sisters, their friends, their families, as they twisted in pain. Some still remember the pain itself and how it coursed through their veins and ate away at their very souls. But the Niscorites never speak of their pain. They never speak of their sorrow when a loved one was infected. They never speak of the wrath of Ithanor.

But they do speak of her.

They speak of the one that saved them. When the rain lifted and the light of their suns hit the top of the church, they looked into the light and spoke of her. They speak of the one with the bravery to save them all.

They speak of Artima.

Three thousand years later, when the Niscorites celebrate, they celebrate the lives she gave them. The Niscorites celebrate the sacrifice she made and the bravery she showed until the very end. They watched civilizations rise and fall through time, but still they stayed strong. Bahl was strong for their Queen. And each day, they raised their voices in joyous song. They lifted their heads high and, bathed in the light of a thousand colors, they sang.

_The Young Queen lives on._

_The Young Queen lives on._

* * *

**Sneak Peek:**

"Doctor, this doesn't look like New York City." Clara commented as she stepped out of the Tardis. "It doesn't look much like the future either."

The Doctor stepped out behind her and scooped up a handful of dirt. He licked the soil before he spit it back out again, his nose wrinkled. "New Guinea, July 1st, 1937." He stated as he turned over his palm and let the dirt fall back to the ground.

"You can tell just by taste?" Clara raised one eyebrow.

The Doctor grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm the Doctor, I can do anything!"

Clara folded her arms across her chest before she picked up a piece of newsprint on the ground. "Or you read it off today's newspaper."

"Technicality." The Doctor grinned and stuck his hands in his pockets, leaning over Clara's shoulder to read the newsprint. Another piece of the paper fluttered by and just as the Doctor leaned to grab it a foot stopped the paper from blowing away. The Doctor looked up at person the foot belonged to, his hand still on one corner of the paper.

His eyes followed up a worn leather bomber jacket, past sandy ginger hair, to the freckled face of a very familiar woman. She had her hands on her hips and flight goggles perched on a leather cap.

"Excuse me," She said, "I'm afraid to inform you that you are not authorized to operate in this airspace."

The Doctor stood up, his eyes scanning each bit of her face. He craned his neck, looking at her face from above and below before he moved really close to her face, then backed away again. All the while, the woman watched him with confused intrigue.

"Doctor, who is that?" Clara asked, her brow furrowed as she took a few steps closer to the Doctor. The Doctor did not turn to her, but a wide smile cracked over his face.

"Clara Oswald," He said, clapping his hands together excitedly. "Meet Amelia Earhart!"

**Please join me for my next story: **_**The Adventure Worthwhile**_


End file.
